


Moderation

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~3500 words, Supernatural RPS<br/>Jared/Jensen. Jared has a (not-so-little) problem, Jensen helps out (but doesn't lend a hand).</p><p> </p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/spnkink_meme/8330.html?thread=3096202#t3096202">this prompt</a> over at the spnkink_meme</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moderation

Jared is the kind of guy who jumps into things head first. Relationships, work, anything. It's not that he doesn't think things through, 'cause he does, analyzes everything from as many angles as he can, thinking out loud until Jensen thwaps him over the head with his script to shut him up. It's just, if you're gonna do something, you might as well go all in.

Which is why when the thing with Sandy falls apart so spectacularly, he's left with his ears ringing and brain scrambled from the impact.

Jard works hard during the day and plays video games when he gets home, laughs with Jensen and pretends it's all good. And it is. Yeah it sucks, and he misses her like he's lost a limb, but that's all normal. What probably isn't normal is how he's jacking off so much he has an honest-to-god blister on the palm of his hand, right between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger. 

He laughs it off when Jensen mentions it, tells him he's been practicing Halo on the side and next time they play he'll get his ass whupped.

Jared is a practical kind of guy. A little bit of self gratification is expected, he's used to getting some pretty regularly over the past couple of years, even if most of the time they were confined to phone sex. But this goes above and beyond. He's jerking off in the shower every morning, in his trailer during breaks, at least once more before he goes to sleep at night.

Nothing else has changed in his life, Jared can't figure out the cause. 

The guest stars on set are hot but they've always been hot, it's nothing new. He briefly considers the idea that someone is lacing his food with crushed up little blue pills, but he trusts the crew not to mess with him like that. Jensen might; but there's no way Jensen would let a prank like this carry on for weeks without saying anything.

And as far as he can tell, Jensen hasn't even noticed his discomfort. Jared kind of expects his roommate to start mentioning the constant whir of the laundry machine or the speed at which Jared is going through boxes of tissues.

He tries aversion therapy. 

Jared keeps a thick rubber band around his wrist like he did when he first moved to LA, trying to rid himself of his Texan drawl. He snaps it every time he catches himself reaching for his dick; allows himself once in the morning and once before he goes to bed and that's it.

It doesn't work.

He spends all day squirming in Sam's jeans, hunching over and hoping the hem of his shirt hangs down far enough to cover his erection. Jensen is giving him weird looks, assessing. If Jensen ever figured this out, Jared's not sure he'd ever be able to look his friend in the eyes again.

The elastic isn't enough to deter him, and Jared's not masochistic enough to try anything more intense. He's not going to go all seventeenth century monk and start mortifying his flesh or whatever. But he's pretty sure this isn't healthy.

He blows through every old wives' tale he knows; he buys saltpetre on Ebay and laces his morning coffee with it, wincing at the taste. When the saltpetre has no noticeable effect, he throws himself into exercise, he figures if he's too damn tired to move then maybe his dick will get the memo. 

It doesn't. He ends each day exhausted and aching in more ways than one. 

Clearly, some kind of outside help is needed. When Jared runs through his list of confidants, he comes up depressingly short. It's not like he can talk about this with just anyone. He still talks to Sandy on a regular basis, but it would probably be in bad taste to ask her advice on this. Chad is, well, he's Chad. And the last time Jared asked him for sex advice he ended up trying to usher two very well endowed strippers off his front steps before the neighbors noticed. 

That pretty much leaves Jensen.

It takes him a couple days to work up to it. A couple of very long, frustrating days, during which his dick is like some kind of sick biological weeble wobble (it might go down but it always pops back up!) He jerks off with his left hand, giving his sore right hand and wrist a break, and jesus, he's turned into a walking horny-teenager joke. 

How exactly does one broach the subject anyway?

So hey, I've been rubbing one out pretty much every time I'm alone. The rest of the time I'm hard enough to hammer nails, and now that I think about it 'rubbing one out' is probably an understatement 'cause it's usually more like two or three and I was just wondering if you could maybe help out with that?

Right.

Jensen's a laid back kinda guy, and they've sure as hell talked about everything else under the sun (usually after a couple of beers,) but there's no way he's that laid back. Jared's not even sure what he wants from Jensen. Advice? Commiseration? Some kind of magical sex cure all that'll leave Jared blissed out and satisfied for days afterwards? 

Jensen's been around, he's gotta know ...stuff. Right?

So he goes for it. He swallows down half a beer in one gulp and turns to Jensen, spread out on the couch with a happy half-dazed look in his eyes. It's been a long day, and they're both a little tipsy with beer. Not enough to be drunk, but enough to be very, very relaxed.

"Jen, I gotta problem," Jared starts.

Jensen looks up, brows furrowed. Jared feels instantly bad, he probably thinks Jared's sick or depressed or something serious.

"It's about, um," Jared waves vaguely at his crotch, like that helps anything. Jared really wishes he'd thought ahead and planned a speech for this. He could've made notecards. An outline, even.

"I'm jerking off like, all the fuckin' time, man" is what he blurts out.

Jensen breaks into a grin, laughing softly and spilling a little beer as he tips it accidentally. Jared waits, picks at the damp label on his bottle until Jensen quiets. Jensen looks up, slow understanding dawns; Jared's not joking.

"Well, you could...stop?" Jensen says, clearly still wrapping his head around Jared's bizarre confession.

"I've tried. I've tried everything I can think of, and it just." Jared flails a bit, raising the empty beer bottle in the air. Liftoff. "If I ignore it I'm just distracted all day. I got blisters," he adds miserably.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Almost silence, that is, tv still on low in the background, some black and white kung fu movie. He can see Jensen considering the problem, is grateful beyond belief that his friend isn't laughing at him for it. Jared shifts on the couch, can feel it even now, need rising to go off alone and take care of things.

"You've got no self control," Jensen says after an age. Jared nods, feels like a penitent schoolboy. "So it's good you got me around for that. From now on, no touchy without my say-so." Jensen waves a finger back and forth, gives Jared a serious look. Jared's not entirely sure he understood what Jensen just said. 

It must show, because he clarifies. "You wanna jerk off, you gotta ask me first. I say no, you keep your damn hands off."

"Uhn."

"We clear?"

He's tried everything else, what else can he say, really. "Y-yes."

"Good."

The movie ends and commercials flash on the screen, bright and fake.

"So um. Can I?"

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"No."

Jared whines, spreads his legs a little farther.

"Self control, Jay. I promise I'll say yes, occasionally." Jensen gives him a casual slap on the thigh and gets up to get another beer. Jared resigns himself to a very uncomfortable night.

*

The next morning in the car, Jared has some questions.

"How will you even know if I'm cheating?"

Jensen grins. "I'll know. Plus, we're doing this for your benefit, not mine. You know what they say about how you're only fucking yourself."

Jared leans against the car window and tries to focus on their scenes for the day. 

By lunchtime, Jared is desperate. He knocks on Jensen's trailer door and shoves his hands in his back pockets. When the door opens, he puts on his best Sam Winchester puppy dog face, stays on the very bottom step so he's looking up at Jensen, looking pathetic.

"Please?"

Jensen glances down at his crotch, bulge of his cock clearly visible through the denim. Instead of answering, he backs off and gestures for Jared to come in. Jared's a little freaked out, he kind of thought that when Jensen said yes he'd just go back to his own trailer to take care of things. But he's not shy and he's sure as heck not backing away if there's any chance Jensen is going to say 'yes.'

What he gets instead is Jensen throwing a script at him and saying, "C'mon, let's run some lines."

"I thought- "

"More times you ask, more times m'gonna say no."

Jared shuts up quick.

They spend the rest of the break running lines, slipping in and out of character as they talk about the scene. By the time they're called back to set, Jared has almost forgotten what he went there for in the first place.

*

After dinner that night, Jared stands up to go shower and doesn't ask. Jensen watches him go with an approving look.

He washes up with a perfunctory scrub of hands, touching his dick carefully and finishing up quickly. Some illogical part of his brain thinks Jensen will somehow know if he touches himself any more than strictly necessary. 

It's like he's back in church and hunching down every time the nun looks his way, convinced she somehow knows he's been thinking about whether priests ever go commando under their robes and whether or not that counts as a sin. That's it, Jensen has creepy nun powers of observation, and he's probably lucky Jensen is his friend and will probably only use his powers for good. Probably.

The next day, Jared doesn't ask at all, even though he wants to. It's on the tip of his tongue all day, and he's half afraid every time he opens his mouth to say Sam's lines a pathetic "Jensen, please," will slip out instead. It doesn't, but Singer keeps asking Jared if he's feeling okay. Jared figures he probably looks constipated or something.

It feels like he's half hard the whole day, clenching is fist and digging his fingernails into his palm to stop himself from rubbing up against the nearest available surface. Jensen said no touchy; rutting against isn't expressly forbidden, is it? He doesn't, tells himself he does have some pride left, even if it's only true in theory.

In the car on the way home, Jared's jittery, leg bouncing uncontrollably and he keeps catching himself humming.

"What's his deal, hot date tonight?" Clif asks, examining him in the rearview mirror.

"Nah, I think he's looking forward to meatball subs for dinner. Boy loves his food too much, it's unnatural," Jensen replies.

"What? No I'm fine. Good day on set, looking forward to tomorrow. Good scenes."

God, he sounds like a parrot on crack, stumbling through words without paying attention to what he's saying. Jensen just rolls his eyes, leans forward to mock whisper something that sounds a lot like 'meatballs' over Clif's shoulder. They both laugh and Jared turns to watch out the window.

When they get home, the meatball subs are indeed delicious; melted cheese and marinara and Jared is half convinced maybe Jensen is right. Surely no one has enjoyed food like this in the history of ever. He practically moans as he licks tomato sauce off his fingers, trying to remember if there was another sub in the takeout bag or not and whether or not Jensen has called dibs on it.

"Dude. A little less with the porn noises, okay?" Jensen interrupts.

Jared looks up from his inspection of his now-clean fingers, sees Jensen biting down on a smile and trying to look stern.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

Half a sub later (they ended up splitting it) Jared washes up and turns to head upstairs. Jensen grabs his arm and gives him a look.

"You gonna ask?"

"You said..."

"Moderation in all things, my good friend," Jensen quotes like a walking almanac.

There's an ache between his legs that's become almost familiar; locked in a holding pattern by Jensen's word alone. The first day he'd been too desperate to really care, but now there's prickling of shame in asking. He's a full grown man, for god's sake, he shouldn't need Jensen to mediate his personal life. 

And it is personal; so very personal. He can't look at Jensen when he asks.

"Can I?"

Jensen's silent for a minute, like he's considering pushing Jared further; saying no, taunting him a little first. Jensen must decide that he's pushed Jared far enough, because he sighs and says, "Yes."

*

Jared doesn't even pause to stay thank you, he just rushes up to his room and kicks the door closed behind him. 

He's got his cock out of his jeans before he's even halfway to the bed, panting obscenely and not caring in the least. It takes an embarrassingly short time before he's coming, a few dry pulls only slightly slick with his own spit and he's going off with his jeans around his knees and his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. 

He rolls over, face smashed into his pillow and breathing hard. He feels miserable. Empty. He's alone and sticky, feeling gross and embarrassed that he just shot off like a teenager. 

Eventually he picks himself off the bed and stumbles into the shower, wrung out and letting the hot water work out the knots in his back. He falls asleep that night quicker than he has in a long time.

*

It goes on for weeks, long enough that it becomes almost normal. Never completely comfortable, it's always a little embarrassing asking Jensen if he can touch himself. Because Jensen does make him ask. The first few times he gets off easy, a simple please? or can I? enough for Jensen to say the word. Soon enough Jensen isn't satisfied with that, makes him ask the question in full, spelling it out like a confession.

"Can I?"

"Can you what?"

"Can I please touch myself?"

"Lemme think about it."

Jensen is an evil bastard. An evil bastard with secret nun powers and the keys to Jared's metaphorical chastity belt, and sometimes? Jared kind of hates him for it. But it's better than before, at least. Jared's not sure exactly how, 'cause he's still hard all the fucking time and the only difference seems to be how embarrassed he feels on the rare occasions he's allowed to come.

Jared tests the limits. Some of it depends on Jensen's mood; there's a direct correlation between the times Jensen says 'yes' and the amount of sleep he's gotten. Once in a blue moon he's allowed to come twice in one day, but usually it's a couple of times a week, max. Jensen wasn't kidding when he said 'moderation.'

His stamina has improved, at least. Jared learns to tease it out; if this is all he gets for the next few days then he's determined to make it count. Slow strokes that don't quite reach the head, pressure a little too light to be enough. He rides the line, other hand clenched in the sheets or in his jeans to keep himself in control. 

When he's home or knows he has some time, he goes for broke; cupping his balls in his other hand and massaging gently, little tugs that border on pain and just barely keep him from shooting too soon.

Jensen always gives him an appraising look afterwards; when they come back from the break on set or the next morning as they guzzle coffee and wait for Clif. Jared always blushes at the attention, even long after he should be used to it. Jensen doesn't bother to be subtle about it, either. He checks Jared's face, the corners of his eyes and mouth for signs of tension, the sprawl of his legs when he sits and slope of his shoulders.

Jared knows he's being manipulated. Only allowed to come when the tension gets too much, mixed with brief lapses when he's allowed to come (almost) as much as he wants. Jensen plays him without any effort, a word here and there and Jared is completely unravelled or tied up in knots, whatever Jensen feels like on that particular day.

Still, he's not completely powerless. Well, he kind of is but that doesn't mean he can't do a little manipulation of his own to get his way. The puppy eyes do work on Jensen, but only if used sparingly. Jared learns other tactics. If he shifts around when he's sitting, twisting and redistributing his weigh like he's really uncomfortable, nine times out of ten he can get Jensen to say yes to a quick one in his trailer when they're on break.

Food is another surefire way. He'll moan and lick sauce from his lips, suck his thumb into his mouth and close his eyes, completely absorbed in his food. It doesn't actually matter what he's eating, Jared figures he's a pretty resourceful guy. When he's done he'll walk off like nothing's happened, like he isn't sporting enough wood to split his jeans (he hasn't yet, but not for lack of trying). 

Jensen will inevitably stop him and demand, "Ask me," in a low voice.

"Can I get off?"

"Yes."

*

One time, Jensen makes him go far too fucking long without release. When Jared finally gets permission, he comes practically as soon as he wraps his hand around his dick. He thunks his head on the closed door behind him and vows to never tell anyone about this, ever. 

Jared wipes off and heads down to the kitchen for a drink and hears a soft moan from Jensen's room.

The door is closed, and Jared's always tried to be respectful of Jensen's privacy, but. There was a moan. Jensen could be sick and in desperate need of medical attention, he reasons. It is surely the good roommate thing to do to open the door and check. Or that will be his defense if anyone happens to ask.

Jared nods to himself. He carefully turns the knob and pushes the door open just a crack. Jensen is sprawled out on the bed, jeans and boxers around his ankles and shirt rucked up and oh hey. He's jacking himself off, thighs clenching on each upstroke, head thrown back and mouth clamped determinedly shut. He's sweaty and flushed, clearly on edge and trying to hold back. Jared pushes the door open, takes an unconscious step forward into the room.

"You- "

Jensen's eyes open and he sees Jared, standing there shocked and his words stuck in his throat. He comes all over his hand, hitting the bedspread and his own stomach with wet spurts. 

They're both frozen in place, staring at each other.

They both try to speak at the same time, neither one with any clear idea of what to say.

"Were you- " Jared starts.

"I uh..." Jensen trails off.

Jensen wipes his hand off on the bed sheets, pulling them up over his lap and looking a little self conscious.

"I...may have been following your example," he explains slowly.

"You have someone telling you," Jared waves at the bed, not quite understanding.

"Ah, no. When I said yes or no, it wasn't just yes or no for you."

Jared needs a minute for that to sink in. No way. But it does kind of make sense. He was never sure why his food porn and squirming actually worked on Jensen, he just kind of assumed that Jensen was swayed by how pathetic and desperate he looked. Clearly that wasn't the case.

"Why the fuck did you say 'no' so much?"

"You came to me all upset asking for help with self control, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't help out? And I uh, wanted to make sure I wasn't being too cruel about it, you took that first day so hard I thought I was being a huge asshole or something."

Jared has to laugh at that. Relieved and completely not surprised that Jensen would take this so seriously. He walks over to sit on Jensen's bed, feeling uncomfortable and a little out of his depth.

"So I was thinking," he starts, "there're a couple of ways this game of ours could be a whole lot more fun."

"Yeah?" Jensen leans back against the pillows, playing dumb but there's a telltale crinkle at the edges of his eyes that Jared recognizes.

"Oh yeah."


End file.
